Favorite Decade
by the one who breathes nitrogen
Summary: Over one hundred years of youth after the conclusion, the members of the New Order find themselves living in Washington D.C. They live in a lovely house with lovely neighbors, including a man named Sergeant Nollen. Quite abandoned.
1. 1900 to 1969

**Uh, for once I don't have a written plot. So here is me, w/o writing it down first. I am so wincing… and my extremities are frozen… Also, this will probably be much more light and easy and happy than the books, because I am not a continually theological/morbid person.**

May 2, 1900

Gemma's P.O.V.

Fee's letter makes panic rise in my chest.

_Dearest Gemma,_

_Something odd is happening to me. For the past two years, my hair has barely grown. My skin darkens only after days on end in the summer sun. I am not upset, but confused. I have not mentioned it in past letters, but by now I find it odd._

_ I do change, in small increments, but I do not appear to actually age. Is it not every woman's dream to be stuck at eighteen? I am happy, but I still wonder if the realms have anything to do with it. Have you spoken to our dear Ann? I do believe that she has lost weight. _

_ I miss you Gemma, and will visit you in America soon._

_ Love,_

_ Felicity_

The letter shakes me because I have not changed either. I have gone to the University, and at the end of this month will have a Bachelor's Degree in Science.

I am also glad that Fee is experiencing the same effect, and ever so lightly guilty that I feel that way.

June 4, 1919

Gemma P.O.V.

Ah, the cold wind and good smells of home, I inhale deeply, and so does Fee beside me.

Fee and Ann moved to America at the beginning of the war to escape its effect on Europe.

In the past 19 years, since Fee's letter, none of us have aged. We remain 18 years old, no matter what. Our bodies still go through the systems of everyday life, but any physical change, such as our hair, happens very slowly, far more slowly than in our life as young girls.

We move often, as to not cause attention. Ann is nearly as thin as Fee and I are, and her newer, thinner face is slightly more attractive than her 'old' face. She is still plain, but not as plain as before.

We live in upstate New York at the moment, just outside of Albany, but visit the big city for the occasional celebration.

Today is a day of celebration (although we are at home). Today, the women of the United States have convinced congress to approve the 19th Amendment to the Constitution, which has moved us a step closer to being able to vote!

Fee leans against the balcony of our two-story home. We constructed it ourselves, for it is a mail order home from Sears. It is quaint and comfortable, and even though we all seem to be stronger that in the past, I dread having to put up another one the next time we move.

"We can vote, Gemma," she says, her voice full of joy. I am almost as happy, but dread that other things will get in the way before we get the chance.

None of us have caught the Spanish influenza, which is surprising, seeing as Ann volunteers at the hospital often. She has a degree in medicine (as we all do- when you do not age, school is the best route), and they are grateful to have her.

I embrace Fee. "Let's go see what time it is. I'll cook tonight. How does steak sound?"

June 6, 1944

As usual, we do not age.

But there are more pressing matters at hand. Today is D-day. It is during times like these that the pain of loosing Kartik comes back, fresh and new. I have n yet to 'get over him,' perhaps because my body has not moved on. The thought of him is always a small ache. Barely a day goes by during which I do not think of him, wondering if he ages in that tree.

I wonder if Kartik would be out there, on not-so-foreign shores, his breath making mist in the cold air. I wonder if he would return. But most of the pain comes from the fact that people can still do those things to each other. Hitler (that son of a bitch) would have thought Kartik his inferior, and dealt with him as he has done with the innocent people of Europe.

Fee and Ann are clingy today. If the enemy got to Fee, she would be gassed or burned for her affections. Ann would be ripped apart for her political and feminist views, as would I. We have lived in fear of the Japanese attacking, so much so that we now live in Iowa, amidst the quiet and discreet farmers and far away from the shores that we adore so much.

August 19, 1969

"The 60s are my favorite decade so far!" Fee shouts to the heavens from our Mustang. Over the past 60 years, we have compiled enough money to drive a car like this. Sure, she's a '65, but we love her.

I laugh with her. We are one day out of Woodstock, and have a long way to go before we reach our home on the coast of Oregon. Naturally, Fee had wanted to _drive _there. And with Ann's obsession over speed limits, it took longer than necessary.

Ann sighs in the back. As the needle nears 70 in a 65 zone, her eyes catch it. "Gemma!"

I push the pedal down further. "I love you, Ann!" She sighs. For a moment, it is quiet, and I wish that Kartik was with us. Even Fee would grow to love him, I'm sure of it. I've had a few men over the years, but none of them can amount to him, and they never lasted long at all.

Fee sighs. She knows what I am thinking about. We visit the realms once a month or so, and I know that he isn't corrupted, but the thought still makes me nervous.

"Gemma, think about something else. We'll get him back someday. He still loves you, you know," she snaps.

"I'm sorry, Fee. What about Woodstock, huh? It's to bad that drugs and alcohol have no more effect on us!" I say truthfully. We can no longer drink away our sorrows. Not that they are as bad as they used to be.

"Ah, yes it is, darling Gemma. I wonder what Cecily would say."

"Nothing of consequence, no doubt. Gemma, I KNOW that you're doing 73!" Ann snaps.

"Shut up, Ann."

**Not my best work, but it will get better, I promise! Ok! I would like to continue, but I must clean. This _wil_****_l_**** be a NCIS crossover, but NCIS won't come in until about the third chapter. Post Alyhiah, or however you spell it. Kartik is coming back to earth in the eighties!**

**Love, evon!**


	2. It

**The fact that this is the 2****nd**** chapter in two days is a testament to my boredom. Enjoy? Please Review.**

**I don't own AGATB or NCIS. Also, this does not reflect my own personal religious views and has no basis in my own religion what so ever.**

June 14, 1981 (and that date is a testimony to my nerdiness)

"Gemma!" Fee complains. "The commercials have been running for SEVEN MINUTES!"

I roll my eyes. We are now over 100 years old, and Fee is still impatient. The mere seven minutes that we have been waiting has nearly killed her.

"Don't blame me!" I cry, not worried about disturbing the empty theater. "It's Ann's fault! And we're almost an hour early! We are watching the credits."

Ann's meticulous tendencies have not changed over the years. If anything, they have become worse. As Fee and I become looser and more modern, Ann remains to be almost an hour early to EVERYTHING and strict about speed limits. She is still the Ann we have come to love, but her habits get annoying.

We are at the newest movie, by the title of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. Fee wished to see it on the very day that it came out (June 12), but that had been a Thursday, and we have jobs.

For now we live in Texas, and I must say that I find their accent to be most… well, it is not endearing. As it has become the usual, we live in an apartment, under a false last name. We always keep our first.

It is becoming harder to keep our secret as technology advances. **(Ha! In the 80s) **We filed our death certificates long ago, but with credit cards becoming more and more popular, it becomes harder and harder.

Thankfully, we do not have to use insurance. We are nearly indestructible. Each time we are injured, the magic creeps through our veins and heals us. It is constantly in us, and grows stronger every day.

Needless to say, we no not permit ourselves to become injured in public.

Anyway, we still have yet to change.

"Gemma! Let's go to the Realms!" Fee whines in my ear.

"You are like a particularly annoying mosquito, " I snap.

"I bite as well," Fee purrs.

We join hands, and I summon the door. It is easier than it had been in 'life' as I have decided to call the time before I aged. I am not dead, but I am not particularly normal either.

The gorgeous scent of the garden fills my nose. Fee laughs giddily as she and Ann spin (almost violently) around in circles. I feel my eyes flicker towards the long worn path that leads to Kartik.

"Go on, Gemma," Fee shouts, smiling. She is being kind today.

I grin and wave. "I'll be back soon!"

"Sure!" they call, but I barely hear them. I'm falling. Something sits on me, constricting my airways. My countless years of college fly at me, and my MD comes up with thousands of explanations. No. It's just the magic… and it's choking me. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.

Or maybe I can.

But I am not in the realms. I am in a blank white space… Oh, god, it's like one of those movies-

"Gemma."

AHHHHHHH! It knows my name!

Breathe.

And then I see _it. _You know, I visit Philon often, and even the shock of seeing him cannot compare to _this._

It has pure white skin, except for the skin around the eyes, which darkens to purple. The eyes themselves are a deep, non-threatening red, and they slant like a cats. It's hair is all colors, both spectrum and natural colors. There are colors I have never seen before, layering in and out with colors I see everyday.

"Gemma."

It doesn't breathe. But the deep colored coat that it wears breathes. I do not know this color, but the coat seems to be made of flower petals, and as I said before, it _breathes._

"Who are you?" I snap. My voice is confident, but as you have guessed, my stomach is a different story. It twists and knots itself into painful shapes.

"I am everything, Gemma. 'I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.' Exodus, 3:6. Perhaps the only one you will recognize. But I am much more. I am land, water, air, I am Buddha, I am Allah, I am the ultimate creator, I am the Realms," It says. God says.

Coldness rises in me. "I have long ceased to believe in _you_, whichever religion you currently… resemble."

Something flashes in the creature. "Gemma. You were raised under the church. You have always been Christian. Just a moment ago, you thought about me in my Christian form. '_Oh, god, it's like one of those movies,' _you thought. Gemma, you have heard the stories. And they are true. Well, most of them. Some person- anyway.

Do not push me Gemma. I can take everything away. You are alive now because of me. I created the magic, and gave it to humans. But when you stole all of it. I was forced to drive it out of each individual, in hopes that _someone_ would get the idea. And you , darling Gemma, _finally_ got it!"

I raise an eyebrow. "Give me one good reason not to leave right now."

'God' smiles. "Number one, because you can't, not until I release you. Number two, you would miss out on your reward." Something begins to materialize- very, very slowly- behind it, and I realize that this 'God' has a flare for drama.

**(I do not mean to characterize God or any religious figure in this way. Again.)**

"Reward?" I ask skeptically. I am beginning to become annoyed. I paid $18 to get into Indiana Jones, and if this person was trying to give me some crackpot-

The figure stopped materializing.

"I can give you _him_," it says. "As young and uncorrupted as the day you were forced to leave him."

My heart stops. "No strings? None at all?"

It smiles. "Just do what you wanted to do when you were young. Ugh, you were right! I've been watching _you _too long! Flare for drama… Oh! And you're in luck. Kartik's been watching you. He knows what the 80s are. And… all that other stuff. HEY! Next time you pray or visit the temple, or do whatever you do in the religion you're converting to, remind me to get a government plan. Or put it on a post-it note."

It disappears, and Kartik appears in his place.

"Gemma…"

"Kartik?" I ask. My heart pounds (having restarted) heavily in my chest, and I cannot think of anything other than his name…

Kartik. Kartik. Kartik!

"KARTIK!" I throw my arms around him, and he hugs me back. And suddenly, the words that were so hard for me during 'life,' pop out of my mouth. "I love you."

He kisses me again and again and again. I laugh, although I wouldn't mind. At all. "Wait, Kartik! Can we go back to the real world?"

He laughs. "You have almost 100 years to make up for." I freeze. "Damn. I have been hanging out with 'God' for too long."

**XXX**

As the credits roll, I can tell that Kartik did not actually see the movie either. We returned about 20 minutes into the movie. Under other circumstances, I would have loved the movie. But today, I was very much distracted.

Yeah, I guess you could call it that.

**You're all perverted. Sorry if the odd perception of an Extreme higher power offended anyone, but I couldn't think of anything else that would be able to give Gemma Kartik. NCIS next chapter?!?!?! And it won't be the weird different time period thing. Just… a few cases. This shouldn't be too long. 8) Review, please.**


	3. Mr Nollen

**I need a life. It's official. Enjoy, please read/review, and don't get used to this quickness… Even if there are more than the measly six hits I've gotten! **

Oct. 31, 2009 (Permanent for the rest of the story if everything goes as I vaguely plan.)

Fee's P.O.V.

Omygodomigodomigod! Ann got a jo-ob, Ann got a jo-ob, Ann got a jo-ob-

"Fee!" Gemma screams from outside. "Stop singing your unemployment jingle and get out here!"

I sigh. Ann got a job in a recession just as bad as- if not worse than-the one in the 80s- during which our number increased, by the way- and I'm not allowed to sing in my head? I glance out the window. Gemma and Kartik are standing on the small front lawn of our small but cute home just outside of Washington D.C. The humorous thing was that we lived here- in the same house- in the late 1930s. The fact that we were living so near the capital had only fueled our intense fear of the Japanese as the war drew nearer. Talk about dark times. Anyway, they were obviously waiting.

"Coming, meanies!" I call, relishing in my ability to act childish despite my severely advanced age. Gemma and Kartik's hands are linked- as usual. Ever since he came back from the realms almost thirty years ago, they have remained almost unchanged… And 18 years old. I'm surprised we aren't the poster face of a family hit by teenage pregnancy… except that there are no children… AHHGS:LD! My brain!

I run downstairs, grabbing my favorite Coco Chanel coat on the way. When Gemma sees me, she raises an eyebrow. Kartik even has a comment. (When you've lived with Fee for 20+ years, you know who Coco Chanel is.) "Feeling good today, huh, Felicity?"

"Yes, I am, Kartik. I'm so glad that Ann got a job at NCIS that I decided to go classy. Chanel is never out of style," I say sweetly. "What does she do there again?"

"The ME there needed extra help- apparently Autopsy was getting a little full. And with all of Ann's degrees- even the ones that they don't know about- I'm sure they'll just love her," Gemma says nervously.

"Are we picking her up for lunch?" I wonder out loud, almost laughing at how trivial our lives have become.

"Yes," Kartik replies as hoists his full backpack higher. He and Gemma are studying for their Bachelors in Science- again- so that they can get their masters- again.

"Don't you guys get tired of getting your masters over and over and over again?" I ask.

Gemma snorts and pulls Kartik to the car in the driveway. "You're taking the sedan?" I shout as he closes the door.

"YEAH!" Gemma shouts as they peel out. Sadly, Gemma's driving has gotten worse. Having been on the road since cars were first made has not made her a better driver. Of course, she never gets caught, so it doesn't really matter.

**XxX**

Tony P.O.V.

Another day, another dead body… And a new probie! Okay, so she was an autopsy probie, but a probie nonetheless. The boss had told me to go ask Ducky about the latest dead Marine.

Countless situations and movies ran through my head, but I settle on the case at hand. Sergeant William Nollen of the Marines. Local police found him dead in his home. Witnesses had claimed to have heard gunfire and called the police. But the only wounds visible on his exterior were the deep, long gashes that tore his face. There were no casings or bullet wounds to be found, but the witness hadn't lied.

The metal doors to autopsy slide open quickly, as they always do. I step inside and see the new girl.

She's nothing to look at, but she does look smart. She's got straight brown hair and pale skin with pale blue eyes to match. She smiles shyly at me- out of courtesy, I can tell- and turns to Ducky.

"Ah, Anthony. This is Ann, my latest assistant. You've met her before Abby. She'll be very upset, I suspect. Ann, this is Anthony DiNozzo, our senior field agent. Tony, Ann is very young. She's only 23- quite a genius really, to have-"

"Duck," I interrupt. "Sergeant Nollen?"

He sighs, as usual. "Well, as I told you before, he died approximately 6 hours before we got to the crime scene. I haven't yet determined cause of death, with all these lacerations. I've got a bad feeling about this one, Anthony, even before the autopsy."

I raise my eyebrows. Ducky doesn't have much of a gut, and if he does, it's been dormant for a long time. "I'll tell Gibbs. I don't wanna rush you but he's gonna want that body open real soon, Duck."

Ducky nods, and I grin at him. Good. Time to see Ziva. "Has she met everyone else?" No need to be extra mean to this probie… yet. I can be nice for 30 seconds.

Ducky shakes his head. "No, Anthony. You may introduce her to Ziva and Timothy."

I wink at her. "C'mon, Autopsy Probie. Abby will love you."

She glances at Ducky, as if she's asking for permission. "Sure. Who is Abby?"

"Abby is our forensic scientist. She's… a little unexpected. But she'll probably like you better than Jimmy, Senior Autopsy Assistant."

"Do you mean James?" she asks, obviously confused. I press the elevator button.

"Uh, yeah. Jimmy."

"Oh! I see. My family is a little… old fashioned. Are we using the elevator?"

"Yeah. Why, you've never been on an elevator?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes, I have been on many more kinds of elevators than you ever will. But did you see that movie, The Elevator, in 2002? Oh, my sister Fee and I couldn't go on an elevator for weeks!" she cries.

"Oh, yeah, I saw that! Not the best, but you don't get many horror movies about elevators anymore," I grin, glad to have someone who seems to have seen plenty of movies, or at least enough to remember the exact year and topic.

"Is Ziva Israeli?" she asks.

Defenses go up in my mind. Why would she guess that? Her voice is tight, and her eyes are sharp, like a witness asking for a lawyer. "Yes. She was a Mossad Liaison officer, but now she is a normal agent."

Ann smiles. "Delightful. During the Gulf War, my sister was scared to death that a close friend would be drafted- even if they weren't drafting- and we spent those years in some kind of Middle-East-phobic life style."

A sister named Fee. "Fee, right?" The elevator dings.

"No. Gemma. There are three of us. Four if you count Kartik, Gemma's… friend."

I laugh at her delicate statement. "Real old fashioned, huh?"

"Yes, Mister DiNozzo. Would you like to introduce me to your lovely Israeli friend?"

Ziva glances up. "A sister, Tony? Or are we meeting-"

I roll my eyes. I stop looking at girls and Ziva starts calling every other woman my new girlfriend. "This is Ducky's new assistant, Ann. She likes movies, Zee-vah. Ann, this is Ziva, and you don't have to worry about her… unless you make her mad… or call her ma'am." Ziva's eyes flash, but Ann just smiles.

"And this is McFlower Power, computer nerd," I announce as she turns to Probie's desk.

"It's McGee, Tony. It's nice to meet you Ann," he says without looking up. Typing freak.

"Way to be polite to our newest Probie," I prompt.

"Tony, I'm-"

"Update, McGee." Gibbs.

"Yes, Boss. Sergeant William Nollen. Local police found him dead in his home. Witnesses had claimed to have heard gunfire and called the police. But Nollen was free of-"

"Yeah, McGee, I know. What I don't know is his history or why you have the Autopsy new kid up here. Surely Tony hasn't moved that fast," Gibbs snaps.

Ann rubs her wrists self-consciously, and I can see old scars that mottle her skin. When she catches me looking, she glares, and I turn to Gibbs.

Poor Tim. "Sergeant Nollen. He's got a wife. Rita Nollen, accoooouuuuntant." The Nollen's personal information appeared on the screen.

I turn around. Why isn't Ziva lingering near my shoulder like she- Oh. I was looking on the wrong side. Ann was on Ziva's usual side, her eyes wide.

"That's… that's my neighbor! Oh, my god! I knew he looked familiar, but…" Ann's eyes fill with tears, and she runs towards the stairs. Gibbs raises his eyebrows, and I shrug. We still have to tell the wife.

**XxX**

We pull up in front of a small, old home in an old neighborhood. It's cute, I guess, if you like that kind of stuff. Suddenly, a black sedan pulls into the driveway next to the one that we're in. The person drives like a maniac. Like Ziva.

Gibbs sighed ands stepped out of the sedan. I followed him, slinging the second loop of my backpack over my shoulder.

"Um, sir?" comes a lilting voice. I turn around to see a pretty red headed girl approaching us, an Indian guy her age attached to her waist.

"Are you here because of Mr. Nollen?" she asks. Gibbs nods.  
"I don't want to make her sadder by coming in, but could you tell her that if she wants to come over tonight we'll have dosa and pulihaara. Kartik and I will cook."

Gibbs rolls his eyes. "I'm not a messenger bird."

A small smile crosses Kartik's (I'm guessing here) face. "No. But she'll need some comfort. And she loves dosa."

Gibbs rolls his eyes again and walks inside.

I turn to the girl. "Dosa and… pulihaara?"

"Yes," she grins. "Thank you, Agent DiNozzo. Tell Ann as well, could you? Also, I would-"

"Gemma!" Kartik snaps.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she mutters. She looks at me again, and her eyes look old. Really old. "Thank you anyway."

I nod and catch up with Ziva.

**An odd chapter, weird ending. But I had to stop it! GAHHHHH!~ Uh, anyway, review if you please, and I'll try to be quicker next time! 8D**


	4. Pulihaara

**Hey again. I suppose it took me a while. Happy New Year, by the way! Three Kings' Day is coming soon! I have updated in the hopes that my Spanish teacher will be happy enough to not take the day off. Our subs can never speak Spanish and they always write bad stuff about us. I wonder why…. Anyway, read ahead! I have no idea what I'm going to write…**

Gemma's P.O.V.

Rita moodily pushes the pulihaara around with her fork. I sigh and sip my wine quietly. Kartik glances at me, guilt evident in his eyes. What can we say? I remember the pain of losing our families, the confusion on the nurses' faces as 84 year-old Tom called me his dear annoying sister.

"Rita," Fee starts quietly, softly. "The people at NCIS will find who did it. Agent Gibbs? He'll let you have Will's body when they're done."

Rita sniffles. "Why though? Why Will? He served his country. He took care of me. He was a God-honest good man!" Her voice weakens as she struggles to finish this small announcement. "I can't go back into that house, Gemma. I- I-"

I jumped up at the faint sound of glass breaking as Kartik leapt from his chair. When we moved here, we figured it had the lowest crime rate in America, so the sound of breaking glass was unfamiliar to the people who had lived there for quite sometime. Fee also shots up, and Ann, who as barely moved the entire dinner, takes a large swig of wine (directly from the bottle) and steps closer to Rita, who slumps in her chair.

"What _now?_" Rita moans, holding her head.

"Ann," Kartik barks, "Get her some Tylenol."

It is at times like these that I remember that Kartik's ancestors were the warriors of ancient India, Kshaitrya, or something. Anyway, he was still a warrior. The marines were fond of calling us.

I slink out the back door behind Kartik. We slide around the corner, Fee brushing up against my side. But when we see the Nollen's house, we stop slinking.

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

The house is in flames, slowly crumbling. The smell of burnt wood, plastic and numerous other materials fills the air, curling around my throat and choking me. Kartik lets out a small cough, and I can feel the tears start to fill my eyes.

"Gas fire," Fee moans. "Come on! What happened to NORMAL FIRE!?"

I pull out my cell phone. 9-1-1 lights up the screen as I press "Send."

"Hello, this is 911, what is your emergency?"

The operator's irritating generic voice sets in the shock of what's actually happening, and I start to breathe faster.

"Um, yeah, my neighbor, her house, it's burning! It's a gas fire, too-"

"Is there anyone in the house?" the operator asks quickly.

"No, no Rita was eating with us, her husband just died…"

"What is the address?"

"504 North Helen Street, Washington D.C.! Hurry, Rita hasn't seen it yet!" I begin to shout. Kartik wraps his arm around my shoulders, and the reality of what's happening sets itself deeper.

I'm panting now, the small effort of speaking rationally and the large amount of smoke using all my sodding air.

"Yes, ma'am hold on, the fire department will be there momentarily," finishes the operator in the appropriate slow, calm, even tone of a phone operator.

I hang up and Kartik pulls Fee and I in front of the blaze. My breath, already thick, catches more in my throat.

The old oak tree that always stood, perfect and picturesque, in the Nollen's front yard is now mangled and slashed, the words, "You're next," carved in a mangled form with a serrated knife. Yes, I could tell it was serrated. I had been an intern at the FBI in the wouldn't believe how- never mind.

I could see Ann and Rita's shadows through the thin veil-like curtains that cover our living room. Rita is hunching over, and Ann holds her up. There is too much to see. The sirens are within earshot now. I never knew we lived so close. The smell of smoke twirls through my lungs, and I feel a kind of pressure I have not felt in quite some time. Everything needs to stop, just… STOP.

The earth holds still except for Fee, Ann, Kartik and I. Ann peers out from the opaque curtains, her eyebrows raised. I wave her off, and she sighs visibly. Fee deflates as well, her breathing slowing as she breathes clean air. (There's no wind to blow it in their faces)

"I just… it shouldn't be too much, but… This is too much. I can't breathe," I say, swallowing my panic. I learned the trick long ago, to calm myself in times of stress, or whenever Fee tried to cook.

Kartik stands in front of me as one small tear escapes. Fee huffs a little and pulls out her cell phone.

"You okay?" he asks quietly. "You look like you need to unwind." He smirks a little as he says unwind.

I struggle to hide my smugness.

130 years old, and my 'boyfriend,' is still tempted by me. And he's 131. "Next weekend we'll fly back to London. Fee and Ann can visit our old spots- I heard Fee's house is a historical art shop- and _we_ can visit Spence."

Kartik raises an eyebrow. "Isn't it still a school?"

I smirk. "Yeah. But I was thinking something more like the boathouse… Y'know?"

He grins again and I wink, unreasonably, girlishly, uncontrollably giddy. But then I glance at Rita's house. Time to be serious. I could refurnish Rita's savings account in seconds without even denting mine. As a matter of fact, I will. I will glaze over everything for her, except her memories.

"K, guys," I announce. "Ready?"

Kartik and Fee nod, assuming their original positions. (Sweeping Genie… inside joke…oh, that's disturbing.)

"Start."

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

McGee P.O.V.

I smile internally as I pack up my gear. Time to go home. And early, too. It's only nine o'clock.

I step out from behind my desk almost in slow motion. And in a similar synthetic space of time, Gibbs strides in, holding his cup of coffee.

"Don't go, McGee. Not yet. Nollen's house is up in flames. Neighbors called 911. Where are Tony and Ziva?" he barks.

I sigh. "They're with Abby. Apparently she had something to show them."

Tony and Ziva enter, as if on cue, and ask no questions. Gibbs power walks to the elevator, and Tony, Ziva, and I follow.

"And to think, Probilicious," Tony starts. "You almost missed out."

I can see Gibbs roll his eyes, and hope that I'm hallucinating when a small smile 'graces' his face.

**Woh. Been a while, huh? Any, Review si'l vous plaît!**

**I'll try to make more of the plot come out. I've though of a vague outline, thankyouverymuch.**

**Wish me luck! I've got to go to jazz band in the morning… I'll be awake again in twelve hours… xshudderx **


	5. Background

**AHH! I feel that it has been too long! I went to D.C., got an outstanding vocal duet with my best friend (all her), and have another round of premature ACTs coming. Yikes.**

Third Person ***ALSO- changed it to a normal fire, cuz I don't know how they put out real gas fires…***

Gemma glances nervously at Gibbs. Too many feds. At first she had been cool and collected, but when they came back, she started to worry.

The fire fighters seemed to be a poor stalling subject, as they put out the blaze and left. When Ann had seen the NCIS cars, she had immediately hid the wine bottle and shoved a mint in her mouth. And now Gemma was panicking. (Well, as much as she ever did in front of 'outsiders.')

"Kartik!" she calls as Tony approaches Rita. Gibbs nods towards Ziva to get Gemma and Kartik's statements.

Kartik appears instantly with a bottle of Tylenol and two bottles of water. "Hey," he acknowledges Ziva. Gemma pops two of the useless capsules into her mouth and takes a quick swig of water. Instantly she seems better.

"When did you realize that the house was on fire?" Ziva starts calmly.

Gemma swallows nervously. "We were talking to Rita about Mr. Nollen when we heard breaking glass. We looked outside and saw the whole house had been lit on fire. Oh, please, Agent David, find them! Poor Rita's been through enough. When can she see what's left of the house?" she continues quickly, almost too quick for Ziva to hear.

"Did you see anyone?"

Gemma shakes her head. "No. We called 911 and saw the "You're next," thing on the tree. What does that mean? Should Rita go into Witness Protection?"

Gibbs pops up behind Ziva. "No," he says. "But one of us will need to be with her. You can have Ziva."

Gemma's mouth twitches as Fee slides up to her with almost Gibbs-like precision. "That's very generous, but we have Kartik." Gibbs eyes the wiry youngster. They were all so young looking… But they all had IDs and birth certificates that were real enough. And Gibbs got the feeling that even though they _looked_ young, they were even older than him in some ways.

"Ziva stays with you."

XXXX

Tony jolts out of sleep as the elevators ring and McGee brings back their fourth round of coffee.

"DiNozzo! Run background checks on those neighbors. Including Ducky's new kid. There is something off there."

Tony nods, his mind running through movies that involve time warps. He almost opens his mouth, but decides against it. Gibbs watches as Tony pulls up the files from their college and pictures of licenses and other background info on the big screen. McGee already ran checks.

"Attended Boise high School, all four of them. Good enough grades and all that stuff to get into Brown for Gemma d'Anello and Mehkra. Not a spot on their records. The three d'Anello sisters are adopted, so their DNA doesn't match. These people don't have credit cards even though they have bank accounts with extra _extra_ cushioning, Gibbs. All of them. If you look at all their licenses they don't change. They're almost the same without any indication of age except for different tans and hair lengths. And now if you look at their files at Brown, they don't have copies of their high school transcripts. In fact, they have almost no real papers other than their birth certificate up until they get admitted to Brown. Even for Ann, Probie of Death."

Gibbs frowns. Almost no records… What was… Everybody had to have a tiny paper trail even if your record was spotless. They should have transcripts, one of those permanent records Tony's teachers probably threatened him with on a daily basis. Even if it was a tiny golden-star-studded permanent record it would still have to exist. His phone vibrates.

"Gibbs."

"_Gibbs! This is Ziva! There was a bomb on the bottom of the d'Anello's car! The black sedan, which Kartik and Gemma would normally ride to college today!"_

"Did it go off?"

"_No, we just found it! Kartik and Gemma were in the garage- doing god knows what, they said-"_

"David."

"_Yes. But they looked underneath their car. There was a note too. It says, "_If you find this, my plan has failed. You're next, d'Anellos and Mehkra. And Mrs. Nollen." _They're talking about-"_

"The neighbors in addition to Rita. Got it Ziva. We'll be there. They're all going into protective custody." He can hear Ziva nod.

"_Yes."_

"Boss?" Tony asks.

"Neighbors found a car bomb and a note on their car about them and the wife. You drive."

"Yay," McGee mutters under his breath. He drains his coffee in record time and decides that he'll have espresso for this round.

**Yikes. Please… forgive? Yes? Well, it was short and crappy, but I totally forgot the plot and am only remember it now… Um… Thanks. Please review. Bye-bye! **

**Hey, by the way, it's hypothetically hot off of my theoretical press! And I had to go to Jazz II (the open-to-anyone Jazz band) this morning to help. Have some sympathy.**


End file.
